My Beautiful Dragon

A/N: I would like to say a big thank you to all my reviewers who have stuck by me with this story. Scotty, your words made me realize that I can and will finish this fic. This chapter was written by me with a few changes and extra paragraphs from Amazonia, huggles to you hun.

Thanks also to my great beta and friend shadowsamurai.

Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1.
Chapter 7

The Worst Detention

Everything was a blur to Harry. What had just happened? Did Draco know about his previous run-in with his ‘jaggy leaf’, as he now called it? One thing was certain, though, Draco was very, very concerned. Harry could tell from the intense gaze that was etched on the blond’s face, even when he was obviously in such pain. ‘All that blood too. Was Draco okay?’ he wondered.

Harry looked around at the familiar surroundings of the Hospital Wing. It was like his second home. Hermione and Ron had insisted he should go since he was still bleeding. He had blatantly refused, of course, the blood not bothering him. He felt numb. ‘Is this how it’s supposed to feel?’ he thought. Madam Pomfrey, who was clucking and tutting at yet another injury to the young Gryffindor, brought him out of his musings.

“The wound is clean, Mr Potter, just make sure you keep the bandage on and come back tomorrow to get it changed. Honestly, what was Professor Snape thinking? Giving students dangerous plants to cut up. Tsk!” Harry didn’t answer; he just nodded his thanks and headed off to his next class.

**************

History of Magic was as boring as ever. What made it worse was the fact that in this class, there was time to think. And that was what Harry found himself doing, thinking. Mostly about Drakkon and the soft caresses he left on his cheek before departing in the mornings, but mainly about Draco. The Slytherin was taking up a lot of Harry’s thinking time lately. Where had he gone after the war? Why had he killed Voldemort for Harry? What, apart from the obvious, had changed between them? Harry felt different around Draco, almost relaxed and… 'safe?'

But why would the Slytherin make him feel safe? Up until the war, they hated the sight of each other. But, if Harry thought hard enough, it wasn’t really hatred he had felt. Not after experiencing what he had after the war. That was hate. Hate for the person responsible for taking away his innocence. Hate for the faceless evil that had tortured him, leaving him to welcome the darkness, breaking him in every way that they possibly could. He closed his eyes and shuddered slightly, trying to ignore the usual oncoming memory.

He glanced at his two best friends to see if they had noticed his anguish. He watched Hermione taking notes and Ron’s eyes dropping as his left hand supported his head. Hermione noticed and nudged the redhead, causing him to yelp.

“What the bloody hell was that for, ‘Mione?” he mumbled. She just shook her head and pointed to the notes he was supposed to be taking. Turning to Harry, she was ready to tell him off too when a soft knock at the classroom door interrupted them. Harry looked up to see Draco entering the room, holding what looked like a note. He whispered something to Professor Binns, who nodded and continued with his lecture, although whispering wasn’t really in order, since the ghost had no idea that most of the class were asleep. Harry gulped as he watched Draco approach him. He handed the note to Harry, smiling as he did so, and felt his stomach lurch when the smile was returned.

“Detention with Snape, Potter. See you there.” Draco smiled once more before hurriedly leaving the classroom. Harry held the piece of parchment tightly in his hand, smiling at the thought of seeing Draco again, and so soon.

He’d thought for sure Draco would be in the Hospital Wing for at least today after the cut he’d received. He was, surprisingly, very glad that Draco was in good health. He decided to listen in to the rest of the lesson, hoping the time would pass quicker.

***************

No sooner had the trio left their History of Magic class then Ron started. Harry expected it, but he wasn’t in any mood to listen to his friend’s rambling about ‘Malfoy.’ Not today. They had both started ranting about him when he’d come back. Harry didn’t know why. Did they want the normalcy of before the war back? They should have realized that it was never going to be ‘normal.’ Never. If it wasn’t Hermione, it was Ron. Ron, who Harry had confided in about Draco killing Voldemort, should have known better than to start insulting Draco at every turn.

“What did ferret-face want, Harry?” Ron immediately asked.

“Ronald! That’s none of your business, leave him alone,” Hermione cut in, still chagrined from the verbal beating that Harry had given her not two days ago about the same subject. “If Harry wants to tell us, then he will.”

Ron stopped dead in his tracks, causing Harry to walk straight into his back. “Oomph! Bloody fuck, Ron, at least give us some indication you are about to stop. I thought I’d hit a bloody brick wall,” Harry admonished, still peeved.

Ron obviously hadn’t heard Harry. He had turned to Hermione, his face the colour of his hair, anger radiating from every pore in his body. “Of course it’s my… OUR business, Hermione. He’s our friend, or have you forgotten that? If Malfoy is trying to be friendly with Harry, then there must be an ulterior motive for it. You said the same thing the other day. I can’t believe you’re telling me off for your ideas. He’s an arsehole, always has been, always will be, and Harry would be better off staying the fuck away from him.” Before Ron had time to say anything else, Harry butted in.

“How…dare…you. Who the fuck do you think you are, Ron? You said you were my friend! Well at least have the decency to talk to me instead of pretending I’m not here. Malfoy handed me a note from Snape. We both have detention due to our little incident in Potions earlier. There is no ulterior motive, as you put it. AND if Malfoy wants to be my friend, it’s got fuck all to do with you. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have survived that war, and you know it,” Harry spat. He didn’t wait around to hear Ron’s tirade, turning quickly and running through the corridors, tears leaking from his emerald orbs. He continued to run until he eventually stopped at his favourite spot, by the lake.

Hermione was livid. Not only had Ron accused her of being a hypocrite, but now Harry was angry again. It wasn’t exactly their fault if they wanted to make sure Harry was okay. Malfoy was a rotten, indecent, arrogant person, and whatever those smiles were for, they had to have some kind of motive behind them. She’d figure it out later; right now, Ron was standing in front of her, fuming at her treachery and at Harry’s lack of understanding that they wanted the best. If anything, the way he told Harry how he felt was what was the matter, and Hermione intended to tell him.

“Well done, Ron. Ten points to Gryffindor for subtlety. What were you thinking? Harry needs all the friends, love and trust he can get, and you go… you go and tear him to pieces in just a few seconds. If you’re going to talk to him about Malfoy, you shouldn’t yell at him and pretend it’s your business. You, out of anyone, should be the most subtle when you discuss him because Harry told you that story and no one else. I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid; it will be on your head if he does.” And with that Hermione stormed off, leaving a stunned Ron in her wake, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.


************

Harry didn’t go back inside the castle straight away. He knew he’d be in trouble, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was the pain to go away. He wanted his tears to stop as he sat by the lake, going over and over in his head what had transpired throughout the morning. He realized he’d been sitting for too long when his backside became numb and began to tingle from being on the ground for a while. He stood up and stretched, then grabbed his bag and headed back towards the castle. His stomach felt as though it had at least one hundred butterflies fluttering around inside it. He’d been waiting for this moment since the first day he saw Draco back in school. But right now he was so bloody nervous.

Glancing at his watch, Harry noticed he had five minutes to spare before his detention started. “As long as I’m not cleaning out bloody cauldrons all afternoon,” he muttered as he strode through the dungeons. Once he arrived at his destination, he had to stop walking altogether. There, outside Snape’s classroom, was Draco. Harry took a few silent moments to observe his ex-archrival. ‘He’s absolutely beautiful.’

He noticed, not for the first time, how Draco’s hair never looked untidy. His clothes always seemed immaculate and fit perfectly, and his body? Well, if it was anything like the flawless, porcelain skin, then Draco really was an image of pure perfection. Harry reluctantly cleared his head from the thoughts of ‘perfect Draco’ and sauntered towards the Slytherin.

Draco stood against the cold stone wall outside the classroom, waiting patiently for Harry to arrive. His stomach was in knots. He had to tell Harry everything and hoped the Gryffindor would not run off, or hate him all over again. The one thing against him, though, was time. In only a few hours, the sun would begin to set and Draco would once more transform into Drakkon. Harry could not see him like that, not yet. He needed time to trust the blond as a human before Draco could even begin to explain his feelings for the raven-haired beauty. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching and openly smiled as he saw the owner of the footsteps. Dragging himself away from the wall, Draco bowed low, causing Harry to chuckle, and opened the door to the Potions class.

“What the hell?” were Harry’s first words as he entered the room. Not a dirty cauldron was in sight, nor any sign of Snape. Instead there was a tray with a selection of sandwiches, pumpkin juice, various pastries and a pot of tea. Harry took a few moments to look around. He noticed that the desks and chairs had been replaced with a large comfortable sofa, complete with fluffy cushions, and a small circular table that held the tray. He swallowed nervously, wondering what all this was about.

Draco was just as surprised at what Severus had done for them. He couldn’t believe it! Yet, at the same time and if he really thought about it, this was completely in character with him. Given their talk that morning, he thought that he was going to give them a chance to talk while they were cleaning. This, apparently, was not the case. He needed to remember to thank him later. Right now he could sense Harry’s discomfort, and decided to break the awkward silence.

“It’s not what you think, Ha… Potter. Professor Snape thinks it’s in our best interests if we talk. But let’s eat first, okay?”

“So, there’s no detention?” Harry asked.

“Nope.” Draco sat down, happy about the lack of detention himself, and patted the space next to him for Harry to sit. Taking the plate of sandwiches, he offered one to Harry, which he declined.

“You have to eat, Harry.” The use of his given name was not lost on the young Gryffindor. “It’ll help you relax, and, well, you haven’t eaten much lately. I’ve watched you, you know, sitting there, playing with your food. Just have one, okay? Then if you want more, well…” Draco looked away, embarrassed at his sudden mothering of the Gryffindor.

Harry took the offered sandwich and bit into it slowly. The air was tense, causing him to shift nervously. He moved a few inches away from Draco, but still remained within touching distance. Draco looked confused and was about to say something when Harry spoke first.

“Sorry, it’s not you. I… um… well, I don’t like being touched, it’s uh… nothing personal,” he stuttered.

“Care to share the reason?” Draco asked. Harry just shook his head and took another bite from his sandwich. He couldn’t look at Draco; instead he kept his gaze focused on a spot on the back wall of the classroom.

Draco was at a loss. He didn’t think Harry would open up straight away, but he did hope the object of his desires would give him at least a little insight into what had happened to him after Draco was captured. Maybe that was a good place to start, so Draco settled himself comfortably and turned his body round so he sat with his back to the arm of the sofa and crossed his legs, hoping Harry would look at him or even turn to face him. He didn’t. He just continued to stare at the wall. Draco sighed and cleared his throat.

“Harry, do know who killed Voldemort?” Harry turned to him this time, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He played nervously with a bit of thread that was hanging from one of the cushions beside him.

“Um… yes, y… you k… killed him, Draco.”

It felt nice, but also a bit surreal, to hear Harry say his name like that. ‘I wonder how my name would sound on his lips in the throes of passion,’ Draco mused. He let those thoughts die for the moment; now wasn’t the time, or the place. Now was the time for the truth, and Draco was scared shitless of the outcome.

“Professor Dumbledore summoned me to his office the day before I came back to classes. He told me about your breakdown, Harry…” At this, Harry’s head shot up and he glared at Draco. That was his secret, not Draco’s, and who did Dumbledore think he was telling Draco, of all people?

“Don’t be mad at either of us, okay? I wanted to help, and he wanted you to be told the truth. But before I tell you, I want to just say that I had no idea what had happened until he told me. He knew I had helped you, but the reason why I did will have to wait until a later date. Harry, I didn’t kill Voldemort, you did.”

The Gryffindor was stunned. “What? I couldn’t have, I was down, and you saw me, Draco. You came over to me, you… you.” Harry fell apart in that moment as the memories came flooding back. Draco didn’t know what to do. He wanted, so badly, to reach out to Harry and reassure him that everything was okay, but the Gryffindor made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to be touched. Draco had to make a decision, and fast. He couldn’t bear to watch Harry fall apart and not offer comfort to him when it was so obviously needed. ‘Sod it, if he hexes me, so be it. I will not sit here and act like a cold-hearted bastard when I can offer a shoulder to cry on,’ he thought as he slowly approached the weeping boy and gently placed his arm around his shoulders.

Harry flinched at the sudden touch and struggled, trying to pull away, but Draco gently drew Harry’s shaking body towards him. “Shush, Harry. I’m not going to hurt you, all right? Just relax, let me soothe you for a minute.” Harry calmed down enough to let Draco engulf him in a tight embrace. He rubbed soothing circles on Harry’s back, calming him down in the process.

Once he was sure that Harry had stopped crying, he pulled away and wiped his tears with his thumb, gently caressing his cheek as he did so. Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him when Draco brushed his cheek. It had felt almost identical to the gentle touch he experienced every morning from Drakkon. He slowly pulled away from Draco and got up from the sofa. Feeling a bit embarrassed at the blond seeing him crying, he kept his head down and focused on his shoes.

“I’m sorry, I… it’s just that, the war… um… it kinda fucked my head up a bit. I’m still not completely over it, yet. I… I have other,” Harry paused and took a deep breath. He wanted to tell Draco, he wasn’t sure if Snape already had, but the words just wouldn’t come, “Other stuff going on right now and my head is fighting its own mental war. I just can’t tell you everything right now, Draco. Please don’t ask me to.”

Draco nodded in understanding and they continued to talk about everything that had happened on the battlefield. When it came to the part of Draco’s sudden disappearance, he had Harry’s full attention. He told of the beating he had received from his father, his dirty, smelly, cold cell many floors below the Mansion, and of his mother releasing him from the nightmare. He finally told him about his arrival at Hogwarts and how he now slept in a separate room - and which room it was - to keep him safe from the other Death Eater children.

He didn’t tell Harry about the spell Lucius had cast on him. As much as it pained him not to be able to hold Harry in his arms at night, while he slept, he enjoyed the closeness anyway, just by being Drakkon. And also, Draco had no intention of telling that part yet; he’d only just gained Harry’s trust and friendship, he didn’t want to freak the poor lad out by telling him he watched him sleep every night.

After what seemed like hours, Draco decided to go back to his room. His transformation was only ten minutes away, at the most. Before they parted ways, Draco took hold of Harry’s hand and gently lifted his chin to look into the intense green gaze. “If you ever need to talk, or cry, or just need a friend who will listen and not judge you, Harry, you know where to find me. I’ll see you later, and don’t worry; everything will come right in the end. I promise.” And with a squeeze of the hand and a smile that could have lit up the whole of the Great Hall, Draco turned around and left Harry gaping at his back.

*****************

Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm, a small smile etched onto his tired, tear-stained face. He ignored the questioning looks from his housemates and the look of sadness from Ron. He wasn’t in the least bit interested in Ron’s feelings at the moment. All he wanted to do was curl into a tight ball and think about what had transpired at his so-called detention.

Draco had told him how it was Harry’s signature found on Voldemort’s body. How the two curses had been shouted at the same time, but Harry’s had hit its target just seconds before Draco’s, and the blond had thought he was the one to kill the slimy inhumane fucker, and not Harry. He also told him about the prophecy that stated only Harry could rid the world of Voldemort.

Harry knew about the prophecy, but after he’d seen Draco kill Voldemort, he’d thought it was just another one of the bogus predictions that Trelawney always made. Harry had been angry at the lack of information forthcoming from his mentor about who had really killed Voldemort and wondered why Draco had been told to explain it and not Dumbledore himself.

Draco answered that easily enough, and Harry had smiled at the reply. “Because, Harry, we are both very worried about you, and Dumbledore said you refused to seek help from your friends. So I was asked to help, since I was not ‘a friend’ to you at that moment in time, and also because you had asked after me.” ‘And because I’m in love with you,’ he wanted to add.

Harry smiled at the memory and snuggled under his blankets. He couldn’t sleep, not yet. It was still early, as in right after dinner early. He was just about to take off his glasses and settle down for a major thinking session when he felt the bed dip. He lifted his head and was greeted by a slobbering dragon. Harry giggled at Drakkon’s pet dog behaviour. “Hello, beautiful, I missed you. What have you been up to today, hmmm?” He stroked Drakkon’s head and let the dragon nuzzle his hand before taking off his glasses and settling down with his comforter.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, Harry?’ Drakkon thought, getting comfortable beside his crush and closing his eyes.

TBC